Ambivalent
by giuli miadi black
Summary: I don't know why I care about what she's saying, but I suspect it's because I know how she feels. My whole life has been a whole lot of feeling like shit while also feeling like there's no one I could go for help. (EricxTris, no war)
1. Chapter 1

**Quick notes**

. It's been years since the last time I wrote fanfiction. This is my first Divergent fanfic. So, at a risk of sounding just like every author in here, feedback is much appreciated. (Also, English is not my first language, my keyboard is half-broken and I'm sleep deprived, so you're welcome to point out anything wrong you see in it. Thank you.)

. This story takes place in an alternate reality where the simulation attack didn't occur the year Tris joined Dauntless. Everything prior to her going to bed after her fear landscape happened, but the attack itself happened about a year later.

. This was supposed to be just a PWP, but I ended up with a full plot, because I suck at going straight to the point. I'm sorry.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing. R&R!

* * *

 **Ambivalent**

ambivalence

 _noun_ am·biv·a·lence \am-ˈbi-və-lən(t)s\

1\. simultaneous and contradictory attitudes or feelings (as attraction and repulsion) toward an object, person, or action

2\. a. continual fluctuation (as between one thing and its opposite)

b. uncertainty as to which approach to follow

* * *

She walks into the Bar alone. It's a little past seven, too early for the place to be crowded, and I doubt I'd be able to see her make a beeline for the counter if it wasn't so. I watch her climb onto a stool and read the menu, looking abso-fucking-lutely lost as her eyes scan the list of cocktails.

I'm not sure why I do it, but I find myself walking up to her. She doesn't notice me, even as I sit on stool next to hers. I never thought I'd say that, but, from this distance, I can see how pretty she looks tonight. The whole 'heavy mascara and dark red lips' look makes her look a lot less like a child - and _a lot_ more like a Dauntless woman.

There's a slight chance I wouldn't have bullied her so much if I'd seen her looking like _this_ during her initiation.

"Drinking alone, Stiff?"

She looks up from the menu. I can't help smiling when I see the surprise and confusion in her grey-blue eyes. I don't blame her; I don't think we've had a single friendly interaction in the whole year since she transferred to Dauntless.

"Leave me alone, Eric."

Normally, those words would only encourage me to push her further, until she's pissed at me enough to walk out. Tonight, though, I decide to actually do as I'm told. Everything about her suggests that I'm nothing but a minor annoyance, and that gives me the feeling that her being alone at the Bar is just the tip of an iceberg of wrongness. Even the Stiff needs some space every now and then.

I shift on my seat, moving slightly away from her. Carl the Bartender approaches me before I even need to summon him.

"The usual?"

I nod, and it takes him literally five seconds to come back with a glass of whiskey. The best part of being a faction leader has got to be the effect it has on other people. They're always so eager to please me that, most of the time, they're willing to go an extra mile or two - and, usually, I don't even need to ask them to do so. Carl is probably the best example of this phenomenon - I doubt he knows what most of his regulars would call 'the usual', but he knows exactly what I like and how I like it, and I don't even come here as often as some of them.

Sometimes I forget this is not how people treat everyone else.

I sip at my drink, allowing its warmth to spread over my body. All perks aside, even my job sucks sometimes, and today has been particularly awful. I spent the whole morning stuck in the training room with Number Boy, who was acting even more unpleasantly than his usual self. After that, I had an everlasting meeting with the Stiff leaders, including Daddy Eaton and Daddy Prior - who somehow manage to piss me off even more than their whelp, even when I'm having an otherwise good day. The cherry on top was a huge argument with Max and Jeanine that almost ended in a physical fight.

Just thinking about it gives me a headache.

I place the empty glass on the counter and get off my stool. As awful as I feel, I know getting drunk alone won't make it any better, and ordering a third glass of whiskey before eight is the kind of decision that can only lead to getting drunk.

Before I walk away, Tris speaks up. It's so sudden that it takes me a few seconds to realize she's talking to me.

"Four and I broke up."

"You and Four did what?" I turn on my heels so I can face her. I know that's probably not the most eloquent - or helpful - response, but I honestly don't know what to say. That was nowhere near what I was expecting to hear.

"I don't know why I'm telling you that," she continues, clearly ignoring me. "I just... I need to talk to someone and Christina wouldn't understand and Uri and Lene and Lynn are his friends too, and I'm... Fuck, I'm talking to _you_."

I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do. I don't know why I care about what she's saying, but I suspect it's because I know how she feels. My whole life has been a whole lot of feeling like shit while also feeling like there's no one I could go for help.

"Well. That surely calls for a drink."

"I've already tried that."

She gives me a faint smile, tilting her head towards the pint of beer on the counter. It looks like she just chose to settle with the safest bet - the cheapest beer on the menu -, only to find out, a few sips later, that it actually tastes like piss.

"Well, I wouldn't call that 'trying'. Come here."

I take her to a table at the corner, in one of those spots where you get to watch almost everyone in the room while also having lots of privacy. Erin the Waitress approaches our table right after I take my seat. I don't even give her the chance to greet us before I order.

"I'll have a bottle of whiskey and a blue lagoon for the girl. And some fries."

"What exactly is a blue lagoon?" Tris asks, the second Erin turns her back to us.

I laugh. "You're gonna like it. Trust me."

"Sure. Trust the guy who hung your friend over the chasm. That could never go wrong."

"You can either trust me or find someone else to talk to. What's it gonna be?"

She hesitates, biting her lower lip. Then, with a sigh, she says something I'd never thought I'd hear her say to me.

"Fine. I trust you."

"Are you that desperate?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

We don't say anything until Erin comes back. Tris stares at her drink for a few seconds, looking at the bright blue liquid like she's convinced it's poisonous. Then, remembering she promised she'd trust me, she takes a small sip.

"Maybe you were right." She smiles at me.

I swear to God the list of things I'll never hear from her now includes only phrases like 'I love you' and 'please fuck me'.

"I'm glad you think so." I flash her a cocky smile. "Now that we've established that I'm trustworthy, can I ask you why the fuck you're talking to me, in the first place?"

"I told you, I'm desperate. Christina wouldn't understand what I'm going through. She and Will have been dating for a year and they haven't left the honeymoon phase. As for the others, I don't want to force them to pick sides."

"Bullshit." I sound so harsh even I am shocked by my lack of tact. "You're just being a Stiff and looking for excuses to keep your problems to yourself. I'm sure Christina's the kind of friend who would understand if you _murdered_ someone. As for the others, they'll pick sides, anyway. That's what happens every time a couple breaks up." I shrug. "The truth is, you just don't want to bother anyone. Which leads us back to, why are you bothering _me_?"

"I don't know." She runs her hand over her hair. Her eyes find mine, and she gives me a sheepish smile. "Maybe it's because you're the only person I know who hates him as much as I do now."

I can't deny that sparked my interest. I couldn't care less about teenage drama, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't love hearing those words coming from the head of Four's official fan club.

"What happened?"

She doesn't reply at first. I'm aware that she's probably trying to figure out how to answer my question without opening up to me, so I just wait, playing with the amber liquid in my glass, until she speaks.

"You know, people act like the Abnegation are all the same, but that's actually far from the truth. Four and I did grow up in the same faction, but we're two wildly different people. We have different morals, goals, priorities... Everything. Even our reasons for leaving Abnegation were different. But we love each other, so we've been trying to work around that for the past year, and that - we - worked for a while, until-" She sighs. "Until it didn't. Suddenly, it was like we were living two completely separate stories, and that doesn't sound like a healthy relationship, does it? Then, he made this huge, life-changing decision without so much as asking me for my opinion, like it wouldn't matter, and that... That's a Stiff relationship, and a miserable one at that. That's not the kind of relationship I want to have."

I take a sip of my drink, trying to think of something I could possibly say to her. For my whole life, I've been either the broken-hearted or the heartbreaker. I've never been the one who gets to help mending a broken heart.

And I don't even know why I took this job, anyway.

"I know that's not gonna make you feel any better, but I think you've made the most logical decision."

She looks at me with that curiosity I'm used to seeing in her eyes. I hadn't noticed that before, but that look feels like home - or, at least, like the place I called 'home' for most of my life.

"That's very Erudite of you."

"Considering how much Four likes to hold my past over my head, I'm surprised you keep forgetting I'm as Dauntless as you are." I sip at my whiskey and refill my glass, giving her a few seconds to move beyond Four's name and process the whole sentence. "I was born and raised in Erudite, remember?"

"Yeah, but you're usually the personification of Dauntless."

"Dauntless acts like me, Tris, not the other way around." Saying her name feels weird. I don't think I've ever called her anything but 'Stiff', even when I was talking about her with someone else. "But, no, I didn't leave my old faction behind. Actually, Max loves to bully me by pointing out how much of a Nose I still am. Sometimes it feels like the only reason why they haven't kicked me out of leadership is the fact that I'm smarter than all of them combined."

She narrows her eyes. "Are you opening up to me, Eric?"

"Let's just say it felt like this was the only logical choice I had." I push the bowl full of fries towards her. "You should eat something. Put your liver to work a bit."

That sharp curiosity comes back to her eyes, but she doesn't say anything. I watch her as she grabs a French fry and takes a tentative bite at it.

"You know, I always thought Max kissed your ass."

"Oh, Max loves me, and he sure was thrilled to finally hand initiation over to someone else. But I have the feeling he and the other leaders aren't okay with the fact that I'm supposed to be more than a glorified babysitter. We're always saying that age doesn't matter in Dauntless, but the truth is, sometimes I feel that even my peers have doubts about my ability to lead this faction."

"Don't you?"

"I can't waste my time second-guessing myself, Stiff. I'm too busy proving them wrong."

"You mean like when you turned initiation into a brutal competition that resulted in a stabbed eye, a murder attempt and a suicide?"

There's an edge of defiance in her tone, and it makes me almost forget she's not Erudite-born. That part of my brain that actually enjoyed the clever remarks from my former faction - and the sharp comebacks from Dauntless - revels in her wit. I wish I could answer in kind, but, unfortunately, she's just asked me a question about that one subject I'm supposed to avoid at all costs.

"First of all, Four is as responsible for it as I am. Second, I did what I had to do."

"What does that mean?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Every question that can be answered must be answered or at least engaged."

I lean in closer to her. It's official, she intrigues me. Her fighting skills may be shitty, but she's Dauntless through and through, and that's not the kind of person I'd expect to quote the _Erudite_ faction manifesto.

I don't think I'd have given in if she'd tried _anything else_.

"Fair enough." I give her the faintest smile. "I wholeheartedly believe I did what was best for my faction, but, in the end of the day, I was just following orders. That's all I can tell you on that subject." I lean back on my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "Did I _engage_ enough for you?"

She doesn't reply. Instead, she finishes her drink and eats a few more French fries. Erin promptly shows up with a new glass of blue lagoon for Tris, taking the opportunity to check up on us. It takes me one annoyed look to dismiss her.

"I heard you were working as a tattoo artist," I say, trying to steer the conversation away from my own job. "How's it been?"

"It's amazing." Her face lights up and her whole posture changes, like just talking about it is enough to make her forget how shitty her day's been. "Tori's the best boss, and I get to meet lots of different people and make amazing things for them, and... I love it."

"I can see that." I smile at her. "I must say, though, I still think you should have picked the assistant position Max offered you. A girl like you would probably have made it to leader in only a few years."

"Honestly, the idea of working with you was a major drawback."

I laugh. Her straightforwardness makes me wonder if she's already starting to get drunk, although I know she hasn't had _that_ much to drink yet. I briefly consider trying to stop her before she gets fully wasted - I'm all for free will, but she's having a bad day and I wouldn't like to be held responsible for anything stupid the night leads her to.

"My _colleagues_ seem to think I'm pleasant enough."

"I don't think 'pleasant' is a word many people would use to describe you."

"Oh, come on. Why does Four deserve the benefit of the doubt and I don't? I've been nothing but nice to you the whole night."

"Four didn't hang my best friend over the chasm to prove a point."

"Maybe not, but have you ever wondered why he's still on probation? He managed to break _every single rule_ he was supposed to follow last year. He pointed a loaded gun to an initiate's head with the sole intention of intimidating him, which, strictly speaking, is pretty much the same thing I did with Christina. He neglected his initiates to the point that people, you included, actually got hurt because he couldn't be bothered to keep an eye on you when you weren't in his training room. Al _died_ because Four failed to notice he'd been showing signs of suicidal behaviour since the day he got here. He bullies his initiates almost as much as I do, to the point that _you_ punched him because he crossed a line. That happened _again_ today, by the way. But, please, keep telling me how amazing and flawless Number Boy is." She opens her mouth to say something, but I interrupt her. "You think I'm a bully, but so is he. You accept anything he does and you keep telling yourself that his backstory justifies everything, but have you ever bothered asking me about mine? Do you know what it's like to be a faction leader when you're _sixteen_ , Stiff? Do you know what it's like to know that, three years later, some of the other leaders still think you're not up to the task? I spent my whole _life_ preparing for initiation because I've _always_ wanted to be like Max, but Mighty _Four_ got all the spotlights on his _first night_ because of something I couldn't even control. I ended up as Max's backup plan, and he's _never_ tried to pretend otherwise. I've spent the past three years of my life trying to prove everyone around me that I _am_ Dauntless and that I deserve all I have, and I did it the only way I could think of. And I guarantee you, Stiff, that if you or your precious Four would walk a fucking mile in my fucking shoes you'd find yourselves being just as _ruthless_ as I am."

I can't believe I've just told her all these things. I can't believe I bared my soul and showed vulnerability to _her_ , of all people. There's a huge part of me that would like to get up and leave - that's how ashamed I'm feeling. But she's staring at me, and I can tell she's trying to process everything I've said, trying to consider all the possible ramifications. I know there's only one logical outcome for it, and my pride demands that I stay long enough for her to apologize to me.

It feels like years have passed before she finally speaks again. Just as I expected, she rests her hand over mine, looking into my eyes as she says, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." I do my best to sound nonchalant, but this is the kind of victory that gives me an almost orgasmic pleasure. When we go back to hating each other, this will be the moment I'll replay every time she makes me feel like punching her. "You know what pisses me off the most? He screwed you over more than anyone else, and you still spent the past year following him around like a puppy."

Her grey-blue eyes narrow. I know that expression - it's what an Erudite looks like whenever they're forced to face their ignorance on a subject.

"What are you talking about?"

I smile at her, that malicious, arrogant smile that always makes her look at me in distaste. Someone once told me that revenge feels sweeter when you can't see it coming, and, right now, I couldn't agree more.

Precious Four screwed up - big time.

"He didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?"

"That we almost revoked your rank because of your relationship."

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

"You almost did _what_?"

"Oh, you know, generic fears have generic people, so, when _Four_ showed up in your fear landscape, that was a red flag. A big one. I mean, in case you don't know, instructors aren't supposed to hook up with initiates. But we thought, 'this is Four and _Seven_ we're talking about, so maybe we should let it slide, as long as no one else finds out'. Then you decided to make out in front of the whole faction before initiation was formally over, and... Well, let's just say we had to spend _the whole fucking day_ reviewing your reports and watching all of your simulations to make sure he hadn't been cheating to help you, until we all came to the conclusion that you were better at the sims than him, so there was no way in hell he'd been responsible for your performance."

"Did he know any of that?"

"He and Max had a little chat about that before we wrapped up the _investigation_. So, yeah, I'd say he did know."

She looks so angry, for a second I swear I was expecting her to slap me. Then, she starts crying, so uncontrollably that it takes her just a few seconds to escalate to sobbing and curling up in a ball on her chair. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but I feel responsible for her reaction, and I find myself moving over to the chair by her side and wrapping my arms around her shoulders, resting her head against my chest.

At first, that seems to make her feel even worse, but eventually she starts to calm down. I keep holding her, trying to ignore the fact that being nice to her in such a public place threatens my reputation. Despite what I've just said to her, I _like_ being seen as the 'ruthless leader', and I got this title by never letting anyone in this faction has ever had the chance to see that I'm capable of niceness.

Erin seems to decide this is an appropriate time to approach our table again. She says something, but I can't be bothered to pay attention to her, so she just shrugs and walks away without another word. The interruption makes Tris pull away from me, wiping her cheeks on her sleeves.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. It's barely audible and she doesn't reply, but I know, by the way her expression softens, that she heard it. It seems she'll have her own orgasmic victory to remember, after all. "How are you feeling?" I do my best to sound nice and caring. Judging by her half-smile, I was borderline successful.

"Like shit," she says, with a sigh. I push her glass towards her, and she sips at it before speaking again. "I love him, Eric. The worst part of this whole thing is that I love him."

"I know." I wrap my arms around her shoulders again, pulling her closer to me. Her body feels small, fragile, un-Dauntless, and I find myself hating Four for doing this to the girl I hate because of her indomitable fierceness.

But I don't hate her right now. More than that: I don't want this night to end. And I know that, after all I've just said, there's only one way to delay the end.

"Wanna do shots?"

She laughs. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Eric?"

"Come on, Tris. Live a little. Have some fun. Let me show you what Dauntless is truly about."

"Fine. But only if you promise you'll make sure I get home in one piece when we're done here."

"I promise."

I get up and drag her back to the bar, leaving what's left of our drinks and fries behind. One glare makes the couple on the stools closest to us get up and walk away, and I help Tris get on her seat before waving for Carl.

"We'd like some tequila."

Carl raises an eyebrow, smiling mischievously at me. I can't tell how many times I've used this exact strategy to take a girl home with me, and he surely expects me to do the same to Tris. But I won't. I don't see her this way.

She does look gorgeous tonight, though.

Carl lines up six shot glasses in front of us, filling them all to the brim. Tris stares at the glasses like she has no idea what to do with them.

"Ever done that?" I ask. She laughs.

"That's a stupid question, don't you think?"

"Maybe." I laugh and reach for the glass closest to me. "Watch me." After a moment of hesitation, I lean in closer to her and say, almost teasingly, "And remember, Stiff, spitters are quitters."

I down the tequila and slam my glass on the bar. It burns my throat, but three years of practice have taught me how to hide the fact that the first couple of shots always make me feel like I'm dying inside.

She reaches for a glass. Her hand is shaking slightly, but her expression displays the fierce determination of a Dauntless facing the unknown. She tilts her head back and empties the glass in her mouth, but I can tell by her expression that she didn't swallow it right away. There's so much regret in her watering eyes that I almost apologize.

"That. Was. Awful." She shakes her head like it could possibly make her feel better.

I spent a year finding pleasure in making her suffer, but even my deepest, most sadistic fantasies weren't as satisfying as watching her getting defeated by a shot of tequila.

I do what anyone in my position would do - I offer her another glass.

"Wanna try again?"

She looks at me, tilting her head like she's about to ask me if I'm deaf or something. Then, her Dauntlessness kicks in and she gives me a wide smile before saying, "Hell, yes."

"Bottoms up, babe," I say, before we both down our drinks at the same time.

"Still awful," she announces. "Do people really _enjoy_ that?"

"Yup." I laugh, reaching over the bar and grabbing a salt shaker and a bowl of lime wedges. "Here, try this."

She looks at me like she's sure I'm insane. "How is _salt_ and _lime_ going to make it any better?"

"Just trust me, okay? Give me your hand."

She rolls her eyes and places her hand on mine. I stare into her eyes, waiting for her reaction as I gently lick the skin between her thumb and index finger. She breathes in deeply, giving me a Stiff half-smile. I pour some salt over her skin.

"Lick it. Do the shot. Bite the lime. Thank me later."

She raises her eyebrow, but I just stare at her, like I'm daring her to obey. That seems to do the trick, because she frees her hand from mine, studying the trail of salt over her skin as I hand her the glass.

Something in the self-conscious way she looks away from me as she licks her own hand makes me wonder if she knows how hot she is. She may not be the prettiest girl I've ever seen, but initiation gave her an amazing body, and, beyond that, there's also that Dauntless aura, that attitude of someone who's unbreakable. And she's also smart as fuck, which appeals to everything I spent my life hearing I should find attractive.

The little Stiff girl who joined Dauntless a year ago has all but disappeared, leaving behind a woman who could just as easily fill each and every one of my deepest fantasies.

"Thank you," she says, shoving the discarded lime wedge into the empty glass.

"My pleasure."

We stare into each other's eyes for a while. She looks like she's trying to read my mind, and, frankly, I'm glad she can't - I'm sure she wouldn't like knowing all the things I suddenly find myself wishing I could do to her.

"I want to try something," I say. "Get up."

She slides from her seat. I grab her waist, pulling her close to me so she's standing between my legs. I wrap my left hand around her hair, gently pulling at it so she tilts her head slightly to the side. She rests her hands on my thighs as I reach for the salt shaker.

I lean in closer to her, my mouth against her ear as I whisper, "Don't move." I pull the neck of her shirt a little to the side and kiss the space between her neck and her shoulder. I could swear she lets out a small moan when I lick her skin.

I pour some salt over that spot and turn to the counter to grab the last shot glass, my left hand still holding her hair away from her neck. I look down at her cleavage and she gives me a reassuring smile and nods. We stare into each other's eyes as I place the glass between her breasts, and she dutifully places a lime wedge between her lips.

I don't resist the urge to bite her neck after I lick the salt off her skin. She moans softly against my ear - this time, there's no doubt about that. My fingers brush against the skin of her chest when I grab the glass, and I slam it on the bar as I lean in close to her so I can get the lime from her mouth.

She doesn't move, even though I've let go of her hair. I throw the lime wedge somewhere on the counter, not daring to move my eyes away from hers. She takes a deep breath and closes the distance between us, her lips meeting mine as her hands travel up to my neck.

We kiss passionately, desperately, like we've been waiting for this since the day we first met. For the first time ever, I don't care about what I'm doing or why I'm doing. The only thing that exists in the world is Tris and the feeling of her body against mine and the soft moans she lets out as my mouth travels down her neck.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," she whispers in my ear. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to move away, even for a second.

But she's right. We're in a public place, and even the Dauntless have their limits on PDA. The last sliver of rationality that's left in my brain reminds me that there are cameras everywhere here, and the odds of Zeke being on duty tonight are pretty high - which means that there's a chance Four's been watching us for a while now. I've always loved rubbing my victories on his face, but I've already won enough for the day.

Maybe I am getting mellow.

I grab her by the hand and drag her out of the bar. Thankfully, everyone is so used to making way for me that we don't have to battle our way through the crowd, so we find ourselves back at the Pit in only a few seconds.

I stop, leaning against the wall and pulling her close to me again. She looks up at me. From this angle, she looks _candid_.

I struggle to focus on the task of finding a place to take her. Our apartments are the obvious choice, but they're further than I'd like to go. On the other hand, most of the compound has cameras everywhere, and I wouldn't want to waste the time necessary to find any blind spots.

"You have a roommate?" I realize about halfway through that this is a stupid question. Of course she has a roommate. I'd be lucky if that isn't Four.

She leans closer to me. " _Christina_."

"I don't suppose she'd be too pleased to wake up tomorrow to find out I spent the night at her place."

"Nope." She smiles at me. There's something about her attitude that makes me feel like she's daring me to take her home, and I've never been one to falter when dared.

"My place, then?"

She kisses me again, nibbling on my earlobe before she whispers, "That sounds fantastic."

I wrap my hand around her hair and pull at it, making her stare at me again. She has that same expression I've seen hundreds of times, like she's not used to being treated this way and she's _loving_ it.

"We're not going anywhere if you don't stop teasing me," I warn her. She gives me a small nod and steps back. I feel glad that she doesn't meet my bossy attitude with defiance - that means we're probably on the same page in this.

I lead her down the fastest route back to my apartment. I've done this countless times, some of them bringing girls home with me, but I've never felt the sense of urgency I'm feeling right now.

Fuck, I _need_ her.

I barely have the time to close my front door before we're kissing again. She takes my shirt off, throwing it on the couch, and I push her against the stone wall, pulling her legs up so they're wrapped around my waist. I bite her neck, gently at first, then just hard enough to leave a light bruise behind when I stop. Her nails dig into my skin as she moans softly into my ear, and I'm so aware of all the layers of fabric between us, but we can't undress any further - not like this, at least.

At some point between deciding to take her to my bedroom and actually doing it, that rational side of my brain that never goes away reminds me that this is _Tris_ , and she's not like all the other girls.

"Two questions," I say, breathlessly. Speaking seems to take an enormous amount of effort, but I know I'll regret not asking these later. "One, are you a virgin?"

"What? No!" She looks shocked, but, thankfully, it doesn't look like she's uncomfortable or offended. Maybe she's not that Stiff, after all.

"Good." I bite her earlobe as I whisper, "Two, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm about to have rebound sex with the guy my ex hated the most." She smiles innocently at me. "I'm not that drunk, you know."

Rationally, I know she's probably just as drunk as I think she is. But she leans in closer, her lips brushing against my skin as she whispers in my ear, "Fuck me, Eric. Please," and, just like that, fulfilling her wish is the only thing I can think about.

I carry her to my bedroom and drop her on the bed. That obnoxious, wonderful defiance comes back to her eyes as she pulls her shirt over her head, and I can't do anything but stare at the ravens on her collarbone and the stark contrast between her black bra and her milky skin.

She's beautiful, she's sexy, she's _mine_.

I pull her hair again, exposing her neck to me, and kiss her tattoos while my free hand unclasps her bra. She moans softly when my mouth finds her nipple, and she rewards me with her nails digging into my back when I begin nibbling at it.

She runs her hands down my body, leaving a trail of scratches that would probably hurt like hell if I wasn't so aroused. Looking into my eyes and biting her lower lip in a tantalizing way, she unbuttons my pants. We both look down when she wraps her hand around my cock.

It takes me a few seconds to decide what I'd like to do to her. I usually follow some kind of script with the girls I bring home - I get them to give me a blowjob, then I play with them for _just long enough_ before I fuck them. But right now, it all sounds like an awful waste of time. I need to know what it feels like to be in her, and I need it _now_.

I push her back on the bed, using her wrists to pin her down with one hand while I unbutton her pants with the other. I remove all of her remaining clothes at once, and I finish undressing myself before lying on top of her. She wraps her legs around my waist. The few seconds rummaging through the drawer on my bedside table until I find a condom are probably the longest of my life.

I lower my body over hers, slowly, enjoying the feeling of her opening up for me. In that moment, her moan is probably the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

"You can tell me to stop if I hurt you," I tell her as I grab her wrists again. Standing still is almost painful, but I only move my body again when she nods.

I start slow, speeding up just a little bit every time she begins looking like she's fine with the current pace, until I can see in her eyes that she's reached that line between being in ecstasy and being in pain. At some point along the way, she stopped moaning, but her heavy breathing is rewarding enough for me.

Our eyes meet and she smiles at me, like she wants to reassure me she's enjoying it. God, she's perfect.

My name escapes her lips, and I know she's close to orgasm. I've never made a girl cum before I did, but somehow it feels fitting that she'd be my first. I keep up the pace until I feel her body stiffen under mine. She screams my name, and it's all that it takes to send me over the edge.

I let go of her hands and she wraps her arms around my shoulders. I stay inside her for a while. I'm too tired, she feels too amazing.

"Best revenge fuck ever," I whisper as I move my body away from hers. I throw the condom away and pull her close to me. Her body feels just right against mine, and as I doze off that nagging part of my brain tells me that here's still one thing left on the list of things I wouldn't expect her to say to me.

Maybe, just maybe, I'd like hear it.


	2. Author's note

Hey, guys!

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed and/or followed this fic.

I'm just writing to let you know that, due to popular demand and a very inspiring conversation with The Boyfriend, I'm currently working on a sequel for this. It's called "Dissident", go check it out! ( s/11959897/1/Dissident) I strongly advise you reread the chapter - it's gone through small, but super important changes.

I'll be posting chapter 2 as soon as I finish reviewing it.

Thank you again for the support, you're all great!

\- Giu


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